Break
by I.Caught.Fire.In.His.Eyes
Summary: What were Sirius' feelings on stumbling into Godric's Hollow on that Halloween night? AU. Slight off canon personalities. (Expected as only JKR can write them completely canon).


"Happy Halloween!"

The bellows and cheers echoed even to the back room of the Three Broomsticks which Sirius was slipping out of, adjusting his unkempt shirt and pushing his short hair back to give it a spikey look. He threw a smirk at Rosmerta who slipped out behind him, thwacking him on his head to get the smug look off his face; needless to say it didn't work. He removed a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, not caring they were a bit crushed; pulling one out and slipping it between his cracked lips, the tip igniting as his fingertip ran down it. Ah, no matter how old he was, he'd always feel cool when he did that.

He took the first slow drag, inhaling and sighing in appreciation as his body almost instantly felt relaxed from the act. When his eyes reopened, he came into view of Rosmerta who was now standing in front of him holding a tray of goblets for costumers, a disapproving glower on her face. "Alright, alright. I'll smoke outside," he brushed it off, throwing her a wink as he passed her up and hurried his way out of the pub before she threw a hex at his arse, quite literally.

When he stepped out into the night, a shiver ran down his spine. He raised his hands and rubbed his forearms, cursing that he had forgotten a robe at home. Then again… it wasn't normally _this_ cold in October. His eyes rose to the skies and then up and down the streets which were empty. Something was different, he knew this. He took another drag and pondered the odd feeling that was in his stomach. "Eh," he grunted, "probably need another round" he figured though he didn't go inside to proposition Rosmerta again, instead he began strolling down the street until he had felt the pull in his body and was sucked through a thin tube, and landing in front of the flat Remus had. 'Why you never moved in with me, I'll never know,' he catechized as he hurried into the building and up the stairs to the door that read '3A'.

He raised his fist and knocked thrice, leaning his forehead against the cold wooden door and humming as he waited. No answer. 'Odd…' He thought to himself, pushing all thoughts away as to what Remus was out and about doing. So, with that he apparated again and this time landed down the street (and out of bounds of the wards set up by Dumbledore) from Godric's Hollow.

He began to make his way down the street, coming to the graveyard. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he began to cross the grounds. 'Hope no ghosts get me,' he thought to himself with a chuckle that made him sound either mad or very drunk. He removed the cigarette that was now nearly to its filter from his lips, blowing out the thick mist of smoke, waving his hand in front of his face.

That's when he came to a halt. The cigarette fell forgotten to the ground and Sirius' eyes went wide at two things: that he could see Potter cottage from across the street, when normally you had to stand right in front of the sidewalk just for the house to begin to show itself, and that Potter cottage now seemed to be missing a roof. A feeling of apprehension ran through his blood, turning it cold. His feet moved on their own, slowly approaching the house and by the time he came to the gate, his jaw was dropped.

Once a lively cottage that his best friends lived in with their son now… looked as though not only a tornado hit it, but that tornado had been wearing the reaper's cloak. A scent he knew far too well working for the Order hit his nose.

_Death._

Before he knew it he was at the door, or what was left of it. He pushed it open, the creak not reaching his ears from his heart and blood hitting a rhythm like war drums. He took a step inside, another shudder running down his spine at the brisk air that greeted him. He slowly gazed around, everything blurring until his eyes came upon it.

James' wand.

Sitting by itself on the couch.

James would never leave his wand just lying out—

The thought never got the chance to finish before he was screaming: "JAMES!" The name echoed through the cold dead night. "James!" He called again as he rushed across the room, knocking over a lamp on his way into the kitchen, he found himself leaning against the windowsill, staring at the opened back door. 'They got out… They got out…' He kept thinking to himself and without his knowledge he began murmuring it under his shaky breath as he began searching the bottom floor of the cottage.

Nothing. He had run all through it and nothing, and now here he stood at the bottom of the dark staircase. His numb hand reached out to grasp the banister, helping steer him up as he began his journey upstairs. With each step he could feel himself getting number, his heart clenching tighter. When he reached the last step and took the step into the hall, he stood frozen, staring at the chipped wall paint. Out of the corner of his eye he could see something shining in the moon light. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath before turning to stare straight down the hall illuminated by the moon. His eyes opened only to reveal his worst nightmare.

James lying lifeless on the floor, mouth slack, glasses half off his face, eyes dilated.

He heard nothing, felt nothing. He began to inch closer, tears filling his stormy grey eyes. "No… j-joke… J-james it isn't… this isn't… funny…" He began to incoherently mumble as he came closer and closer until he was hardly even a foot away from the body. He dropped to his knees, not even wincing at the sharp pain that shot through them.

With a shaky hand raised, he carefully moved it to take James' limp cold hand into his own, rubbing soothing circles on the knuckles with his thumb in an attempt to warm them. "James…" He whispered, tears now cascading down his cheeks and dropping onto his pants leg. He shook his head in denial, not wanting to believe it; wanting it to be him lying dead on the floor and not his best friend. He closed his eyes, not wanting this to be real, wanting to wake up from his nightmare.

When he reopened his eyes everything was grey, his cold snout was tucked under James' cold hand. The dog began to whimper at its loss, clawing at the rug below his paws without control. 'James, James, James, James…' the dog began to chant with his whimpers.

His eyes became wide and alert when something caught his hearing wave. Padfoot's his propped up, glancing down the hall where a light was brightly shining. He pushed himself up on all fours, but before he even stood at full height he morphed back into a human who was crouching. He reached his hand forward to place upon James' eyelids, pushing them down so he wouldn't have to look at the scared expression anymore.

He stood and slowly made his way down the hall, his wand grazing against his fingertips. When he reached the room, he poked his head in, the first thing he saw was Lily's body in almost the same position as James'. His heart clenched tighter and a sob escaped his lips, he almost just almost fell down next to her body, too but then another sob joined his own.

He turned his head to stare at the black mop of hair baby in its crib, staring sadly down at his mother. Sirius took the few steps to the crib, careful to stop over Lily's stretched legs so he could lift his godson into his arms. The boy calmed immediately and gave Sirius a confused expression. Sirius' hand raised and his thumb brushed against the still bleeding and very hot cut that was branded on his forehead.

"Shh. It's okay…" He murmured, holding the boy close and rocking him from side to side. He turned on his heels and stared down the hall at James' still form, the tears once again pouring. He let out a shaky breath and then he heard it. His ears twitched at the loud noise of the motorcycle getting closer. He pulled the boy back from his body, forcing a small smile. "Don't be scared… I'll be back. I'll be back, and then we'll… I'll take care of you," he whispered before sitting the boy back into his crib much to his liking.

With one last look down the hall at James, something inside him broke. His eyes darkened and his wand slipped down into his grasp, his knuckles turning ghostly white from the grip he had on it. "I'll be back," he whispered to Harry once again. His face breaking into a mad grin. "Right after I kill him…" he managed in a shaky tone before madly letting out a cackle and then disappearing in a crack of apparition.


End file.
